


As the Day Goes

by writerforlife



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Fluff, M/M, recollections
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 17:59:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13769523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerforlife/pseuds/writerforlife
Summary: "A lazy smile came over Adam’s face, the type of grin a person didn’t notice because it took no work to maintain. His curiosity reared its head as Adam closed his eyes and allowed the expression to rest on his face."Adam smiles; Ronan notices.





	As the Day Goes

Ronan and Adam laid atop the BMW, languid and free in the golden evening air. In driving the car to the center of the field, Ronan had trampled a good portion of whatever the hell type of flowers grew there. Dream things were resilient, though—Ronan was sure he could torch the field and the sprouts would blossom again within hours. He’d convince Adam to try it, eventually. He was a scientist and logistician: once Ronan introduced the hypothesis, Adam wouldn’t be able to let go of the idea until they tested it. 

The summer sun crept lower into the sky, teasing as darkness and shadow begged the light to disappear. Like the oil staining Adam’s thin white t-shirt and worn coveralls, the sun remained stubbornly in place, content to linger despite the hour. A lazy smile came over Adam’s face, the type of grin a person didn’t notice because it took no work to maintain. His curiosity reared its head as Adam closed his eyes and allowed the expression to rest on his face. 

Ronan flicked him in the side. “What?”

“Hmm? Nothin’.” Adam’s accent plucked the last letter from the word, a common occurrence when the only witnesses to their conversations were the Barns, the BMW, and the ever-present menagerie of animals that seemed to flock to Adam. It made sense. Many of them had marched from Ronan’s dreams with a mind of their own and went straight to Adam, as many of his dream things did. Presently, two deer (pure dream, with all-white fur), an assortment of mice (all of whom seemed to be invincible to traps), a horse (who could almost outpace the BMW; Ronan wanted to try her against the Camaro), and two cats (non-dream, found trying to catch the mutant mice) rested around the car. 

Ronan flicked him again. “You’re smiling, Parrish.”

“Thought you liked when I did that. Lynch.” Eyes still closed, Adam searched until his hand found Ronan’s, then intertwined their fingers.

His heart suddenly felt as warm as the beams of sun stretching over him. He turned his face into Adam’s shoulder and closed his eyes. Adam smelled like gasoline; Ronan didn’t race as much as he used to, mostly because he could get the thrill of winding through roads recklessly just by being next to Adam. He’d never dared to imagine them together. Never thought to imagine it. When Gansey first brought Adam to sit with them at lunch, Ronan had only seen a challenge and Gansey’s latest project. He’d certainly challenged Adam—about his uniform, about Latin, about his bruises, about everything short of the very laws of gravity. Through it all, Adam had either stared back with a withering glare or snapped right back. Gansey had pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered about manners, but Ronan always felt  _ electric.  _

And the electricity had powered a light, a burning desire he couldn’t figure out how to vanquish. It illuminated his most unpredictable secret: Adam Parrish. 

“Now you’re smiling,” Adam said. 

“God forbid we’re both happy.” Ronan said it lightly. Adam had enough unhappiness to last several lifetimes, and the ghost of the evidence—sleep interrupted by a sharp gasp, staring at walls when he thought Ronan wasn’t watching, putting a headphone in his bad ear then removing it with a frown, a stubborn twist of his chapped lips—remained. Even Ronan couldn’t dream away a lifetime of ragged memories. 

He still remembered when he figured out the truth about Adam’s father. Gansey hadn’t been at lunch, but Adam had, and he had purple, finger-shaped bruises around his wrists and neck. Ronan had thought Adam merely got into scraps with other boys, but those weren’t the marks of sparring. 

“Don’t you have anything better to look at?” Adam had muttered, his face flushed.

“Who the fuck did that?” It had been too serious, too intense for their usual banter or argument (whatever sounded better that day), but Ronan couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“It’s none of your business.” Adam picked at the sparse lunch he’d brought—half a peanut butter sandwich and a bruised apple; Ronan remembered wanting to drive to the nearest burger joint and buy the entire restaurant for him—then sighed. “I got home late. My dad wasn’t happy. Don’t tell Gansey.”

Ronan hadn’t. It was the second thing he kept from Gansey, the first being the truth about the scars that littered his forearms. When Gansey inevitably discovered the truth and asked Ronan if he knew, Ronan had replied that he had. The terse silence had persisted for a week until Gansey began to campaign for Adam to move in with them. Ronan knew it wouldn’t work. He only waited an occasion for him to beat the shit out of Robert Parrish arose, then let his fists fly. He was good at that. 

His breath hitched, only slightly, but Adam shifted so they were laying on their sides, noses nearly touching. 

“What’re you thinking about?” Adam’s breath ghosted his cheeks, as gentle as the summer wind rippling across the fields.

Ronan tugged on Adam’s dusty brown hair gently. “What are  _ you  _ thinking about?” 

“ _ Ronan _ .” Adam didn’t have to roll his eyes for Ronan to hear it in his voice, but he could also tell it was fond exasperation. In his dreams, Adam said his name like that over and over, like a record stuck on one line of a song, but Ronan never tried to wake up. Sometimes, he wished he could bring the sound back from sleep and keep it like the sound of the ocean in a shell, a whisper and a reminder. 

“ _ Adam _ .” He tried and failed at mimicking Adam’s accent. Adam snorted a burst of laughter and rolled onto his back, hands tucked behind his head and elbows flat against the hood of the car. Freckles were dusted across his tanned face, his eyes turned to the sky and last vestiges of daylight, his smile untouched. He was the antithesis of the boy Ronan had first met, a bruised, frayed boy with hunched shoulders and a spirit always a second away from cracking. Adam was free. Open. “You never told me what you were thinking about.”

“Remember when I asked you not to tell Gansey about my dad?”

“Parrish, that’s not what you’re thinking about.”

Adam rolled onto his side. His shirt dipped down to reveal his collarbone, sharp and shadowed in the golden light. “Why not?”

Ronan trailed his fingers over the exposed skin and let them rest there. “Because that’s what I was thinking about.”

“Of course you were.” Adam chuckled and leaned in close enough for his lips to brush Ronan’s neck. “I was terrified you’d tell Gansey. But you didn’t. You’ve always understood me, just like that.” Adam snapped his fingers. “And the cheats. I reckon you’ve got those, too.”

“I know you, Parrish.”

Adam made a noncommittal noise, the one Ronan had learned to associate with serious moments. He always laid foundations in little pieces, so slowly that it took awhile for Ronan to realize he was building something, but to be with Adam Parrish was to be patient. He achieved things at his own pace, with his own merit, and in due time, he always let Ronan come along. 

“You wanna know something funny?” Adam started. “I always thought you were handsome. I never doubted that. I just doubted I could love you. Wait. That came out wrong.” Adam flipped onto his stomach and propped himself onto his elbows so he could look Ronan in the eye. His gaze was intense, but Ronan had never backed away from challenges “That I was capable of love. I didn’t know if I’d be good for anyone. I think I realized that if I could love someone, it would be you. I just had to be ready. I had to be what you needed. You deserve to love and be loved.” 

Ronan didn’t know what to say, because he never knew what to say after someone said exactly what they thought. He did know, though, that when he dreamt that night, the fullness in his heart would become beautiful things—deer and flowers, golden rays of light, oil-stained shirts and coveralls, all brought back to the world for Adam. For both of them. 

Maybe they both deserved beautiful things. 

“You’re a sap, Parrish.” Then, he remembered every bruise and scar Adam carried, every impossible challenged they’d defeated to earn sunsets atop the BMW while dream animals roamed around them. “I knew. Most of that. And I hoped. I hoped that you would realize…”

“That you’d been staring at me for months.” Adam kissed him softly, and every turbulent feeling in Ronan’s mind settled. When Adam pulled away, he slipped his fingers under Ronan’s leather bracelets and trailed them over the scars, touch feather-light. Ronan hooked his ankle over Adam’s and took his hand in his; he held their intertwined hands against his chest. They’d both been torn open and left for ruin, but they’d both healed. 

“I never tried to be subtle.” Ronan smirked and glanced toward the sky.

“I know.” Adam kissed his temple. “I was looking, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhh I haven't written Adam and Ronan in so long!! I didn't know where this was going when I started this, but I hoped you liked it :)


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